HP: Hogwart's Journey

Exam week arrived in the blink of an eye. 

A week before the tests, young wizards had already begun to grow anxious. The Hufflepuff common room was packed every day, filled with the constant murmur of recitations, the scratching of quills, and endless complaints. 

It wasn't just the first years feeling the pressure—even the fifth years walked around like zombies, desperate to squeeze in every last bit of study time, as if they were preparing for some kind of execution. 

Caught up in the overwhelming atmosphere, even Robert found himself growing uneasy. 

"Scurvy Potion preparation steps… Forgetfulness Potion preparation steps..." 

"Basic Transfiguration principles..." 

"Magic flow and wand movements..." 

"Fluxweed… Devil's Snare..." 

"The origins of the House-Elf Rebellion..." 

After going through all his notes, Robert stared at his notebook in disbelief. 

Wait… had he just memorized the entire first-year curriculum? 

Then what was he panicking for? 

Robert let out a long sigh. Was this exam anxiety? This wasn't a good sign. 

Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath. 

Robert felt a little better, but when he looked up and saw his classmates—dark circles under their eyes, bloodshot pupils, pale skin, and visibly exhausted bodies— 

Umm... 

Slipping out to find food for himself at a time like this would be way too heartless! 

So, he made a decision. In this restless, irritable, borderline despairing moment… a hotpot was in order! 

--- 

Cole, the house-elf, stared at Robert in shock. His already large, bulbous eyes widened even further in disbelief. 

"Bone broth?" Cole repeated in confusion. "Why would you need bone broth, Mr. Robert?" 

Robert scratched his head. "Ah, well, my classmates have been studying too hard, so I thought I'd make something nice to reward them." 

Cole's expression grew even more peculiar. "But if you need broth, wouldn't it be better to use meat? I've only heard of bones being used in potions—like dragon bones, for instance. Of course, I mean real dragon bones." 

"Dragon bones?" Robert asked, intrigued. "You can eat those giant lizards?" 

"There are exactly 36 recorded ways to cook dragon meat in Lady Hufflepuff's recipe book," Cole said with a mischievous wink. "If you can get your hands on some, Mr. Robert, we could prepare a nice pot of dragon stew for you." 

So the legendary Hufflepuff cookbook was indeed in the hands of the house-elves! 

Robert was surprised that Cole was willing to share this information, but he wasn't particularly interested in the cookbook. Right now, he just wanted to make a simple pot of bone broth. 

"You underestimate Muggle cuisine, Cole," Robert declared proudly. "How about this—I'll teach you how to make bone broth, and in exchange, you provide the ingredients for a full hotpot feast for all of Hufflepuff." 

"Serving wizards is our greatest honor!" Cole chirped, immediately calling over several other house-elves to gather a large pot and the necessary ingredients. 

--- 

By the time Robert returned to the common room, several exhausted Hufflepuffs had already dozed off at their desks. 

He had Cole place the massive pot of bone broth over the fireplace, and before long, the rich aroma filled the room. The scent tickled the noses of the sleepy students, and before they were even fully awake, they had instinctively gathered around the fireplace. 

Robert scratched his head. "Uh… aren't you guys gonna grab some bowls and plates?" 

It was only then that the students snapped out of their daze and rushed off to fetch utensils. A few upper-year girls returned with proper bowls instead of plates. 

"Huh?" Robert looked curiously at the group of older students. 

One of them, a senior named Vadina, puffed out her chest proudly. "As someone who aspires to taste every cuisine in the world, there's no way I wouldn't know about hotpot! I even brought some spicy broth once. But why is this soup white?" 

Robert nodded in understanding and explained, "Hotpot can be made with different broths. There's a version called a 'Yuan-Yang pot,' or a 'red-and-white pot.' The red broth is the spicy one, while the white broth is the milder version." 

Vadina nodded thoughtfully. "I've heard of a type called 'clear broth,' but I've never tried it. This bone broth smells amazing—I'm definitely giving it a go!" 

Robert gave her a thumbs-up, showing his admiration for her food knowledge. "That's called 'Da Bian Lu'—it's meant to be paired with dipping sauces. But first, try the bone broth." 

The house-elves quickly cooked thinly sliced meats and vegetables in the bubbling pot and served them to the students. 

The unfamiliar style of eating confused the younger students at first. 

"You're supposed to eat it with the broth!" Vadina instructed, holding out her bowl. "Some soup, please." 

The house-elf promptly ladled a steaming portion into her bowl. 

Vadina took a sip and sighed contentedly. "So this is why white broth hotpot exists…" 

The younger students found the concept fascinating, but after glancing down at their shallow plates, they felt a pang of regret. 

The struggle of using plates for soup… 

Still, the meal was rejuvenating. Thanks to the various magical herbs Robert had added to the broth, the exhausted students felt a pleasant warmth spread through their bodies. Even their sleep-deprived brains seemed a little clearer. 

Though none of them could quite explain it, at that moment, they all shared a common craving—for a glass of ice-cold pumpkin juice. 

Absolutely refreshing. 

Now full and satisfied, the students lost interest in studying and instead yawned, heading off to bed to finally catch up on sleep. 

Just then, Gabriel Truman burst into the common room, his face swollen and bruised, yet he was grinning like an idiot. 

Curious gazes turned toward him. 

"I'm fine, guys," Truman said between chuckles, though wincing as he accidentally pulled at his wounds. 

A few senior girls hurried off to fetch Dittany, but Truman waved them off with a goofy smile. "No need to worry. The Ravenclaw kid looks way worse than I do." 

He then began recounting his story. 

After lunch, he had been in the library revising his Arithmancy notes and came across a passage about Bridget Wenlock and her famous theory on the magical properties of the number seven. 

At that moment, a Ravenclaw prefect had walked by and casually commented, "No surprise—one of our Ravenclaw ancestors contributed to Arithmancy as well." 

But in truth, Bridget Wenlock had been a proud Hufflepuff. 

Out of respect for his house's legacy, Truman had immediately corrected the prefect, insisting he acknowledge the mistake. However, the prefect stubbornly insisted the book must have been wrong. 

"So, I dueled him," Truman said, smirking. "The idiot's spells were weaker than mine. How did he even become a prefect?" 

Vadina smacked him across the head. 

Truman sucked in a sharp breath and froze. 

"Seriously? You challenged him to a duel?" Vadina huffed. "You could get detention for that! Exams are coming up, and you still got yourself in trouble?" 

"I was supposed to get detention—at least a week of it," Truman admitted, still looking smug. "But when Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick arrived, Sprout just gave me a warning and… secretly handed me a box of coconut ice cream. The Ravenclaw, though? Flitwick gave him a proper scolding and assigned him several scrolls' worth of detention essays." 

A collective sigh of relief swept through the Hufflepuffs. 

"So, uh… is there any food left?" Truman asked, rubbing his stomach. "I haven't eaten since lunch…" 

"Perfect timing," Robert said, gesturing toward the pot. "There should still be some soup left. Just toss in whatever ingredients you like and let it cook." 

Truman eagerly hurried to the fireplace to grab himself a bowl. 

By the time Robert returned to his dormitory, his Hufflepuff roommates were already sprawled out on their beds, too exhausted to even draw their curtains. 

Not that they needed them on a night like this. 

(End of Chapter)